"I don't know," Umlaut said.
Rorrim says you don't need to gamble. Make the agreement with him, and he will enable you to track the futures of your friends also, so that they will go neither to chaos nor loneliness.
That really tempted Umlaut. But it didn't answer how Xanth could be saved if he did not deliver the letter. "I am here because Xanth is threatened by Jupiter's giant hurled Red Spot, and delivering these letters will somehow show how to solve that problem. You show no problem if I deal with you. How can that be?"
Rorrim says he does not know. He just sees the future, and there is no problem unless you don't make the deal. So you should make it.
Umlaut's head was spinning. He turned to Becka. "What do you think? Can I believe this mirror?"
"I don't think so," Becka answered. "Rorrim wants to save his own hide, or glass, or whatever, so he's bound to tell you that his way is best."
Rorrim says he is telling the truth, Claire indicated. He can't fake images of the future; he must show only what is there. He doesn't think there is a threat to Xanth, at least not by the Red Spot.
"But he could be lying about his inability to fake images."
Claire shook her head. He is not lying, nor is he misinformed. The truth is merely too complicated for him to grasp, and for us too. There is something here that is larger than we are.
That set Umlaut back in another way. "There's been something funny about me all along. I can't remember my past life, and Dawn and Eve said I wasn't alive or dead. Sometimes I wonder whether I really exist."
There was a soundless, sightless looming. Something horrendous was on the verge of happening.
"Maybe you had just better do the right thing," Becka suggested. "Whatever it is."
Umlaut nodded. "If there is something wrong about me, at least I can do what I set out to do. And that is to deliver the letter." He held it out. "Rorrim, here is your letter. Take it." He touched the envelope to the surface of the mirror.
Then everything changed.
Chapter 20
Decisions
Umlaut stood in the center of a large stage. Before him were three scintillating entities and a beautiful woman. Offstage was a huge and empty auditorium with space for hundreds of people. He had no idea how he had come here or what this was all about.
"It has been decided," the lovely woman said. "The icon delivered all the letters before confirming his nonexistence. Demoness Fornax does not acquire the Land of Xanth, and her contraterrene equivalent is transferred to our possession. Demon Jupiter's motivating mock threat of the Red Spot is withdrawn. We have only details to conclude at this point."
This was utterly weird. "Who are you?" Umlaut asked. "What's going on here?"
Demoness Fornax formed into the aspect of D. Metria. "How cute, it talks."
"Abolish it," Demon Jupiter said. "Its usefulness is done."
"Spoken like a Demon without a conscience," the woman said. She turned to Umlaut. "I am Chlorine, speaking for Nimby, otherwise known as the Demon Xanth." A second scintillation formed into a donkey-headed dragon. "Demon Jupiter made a wager with Demoness Fornax, and you were crafted to decide it. Had you failed to deliver all the letters, or had you verified your own nonexistence before completing that chore, Demoness Fornax would have won, and the Land of Xanth would have been turned over to her for vivisection. I believe that answers your two questions. Have you anything else to say before being dissolved?"
"Dissolved?" he asked numbly.
"You do not exist. You are merely a construct with certain characteristics put into play for the purpose of deciding the issue. Your name signals that: It means a mark used to show that a vowel has a different sound. You look like a person, but you have a different reality. You are more apparent than real."
Suddenly his worst fear had been confirmed. He had no memory of his past because he had no past. The two princesses had not been able to classify him because he had no classification. He did not truly exist.
Yet he was here, for the moment. "What about the others?"
"You are the only one."
"I mean my friends, and the people I, uh, interacted with. What happens to them now?"
"Why, they go about their business as usual. Unlike you, they exist."
Umlaut was having trouble organizing his case, but he was used to that. He plowed on. "But I affected them. I changed their lives, maybe only in little ways, but they have those experiences and memories. What happens if I disappear?"
Chlorine turned to Nimby. "He has a point. How can his associates deal with his nonexistence?"
The dragon wiggled a donkey ear. "Very well," Chlorine said. She turned back to Umlaut. "You may decide. Either those experiences can be subtracted, so that the others never interacted with you, and you will have retroactive nonexistence. Or they can be confirmed, so that the others do remember and their lives remain changed, only without your presence. Which do you prefer?"
Either way, he was gone. He remained too numbed to be completely surprised or dismayed. But he did care about his friends and wanted them to have a fair say in the matter. "They should decide. It's their lives."
Chlorine glanced at Nimby again. He wiggled the other ear. "Very well," she said. "They shall decide."
Suddenly the auditorium was filled with folk. Many of them were familiar to Umlaut, but most were not. Most of them looked somewhat surprised; they must have been minding their own businesses and suddenly found themselves here. "I didn't, uh, interact with all these."
"Chain reaction," Chlorine explained. "The ones you knew personally then affected others in an expanding ripple effect. By the time it runs its course, a significant portion of the population of the Land of Xanth is affected."
"I, uh, see." Now he spied Sesame Serpent in the front row, and Sammy Cat next to Claire Voyant, and Para Boat. They gazed at him encouragingly, now understanding his nature.
Chlorine faced the audience. "This person, Umlaut, was crafted to represent the Demon Jupiter in a contest with Demoness Fornax. That contest has now been concluded in Jupiter's favor. Umlaut exists only for the moment, having no past and no future. You are here to decide the extent of your interactions with him. How do all of you feel? Do you prefer to retain your direct or indirect experience with this nonexistent man, or to have it deleted so that you are unchanged from your former state, in this respect? You will indicate your preferences by turning green for keeping it, or red for deleting it."
The people considered. Umlaut recognized tall Cory and short Tessa, whom he had kissed, and Breanna of the Black Wave, and Princesses Dawn and Eve. There were the little half demons Ted and Monica, with their parents, and Tristan Troll, seated uncomfortably between Terian and Tacy. There were six brutish bullies and six eager girls. There were the three little princesses beside Becka the dragon girl. There were Wira, and Caitlin, and Anathe Ma. Everybody with whom he had interacted, and many more. They all consulted among themselves, and soon a consensus developed: They wanted to retain their experiences. First a few turned green, then more, and finally a green wave spread across the audience. Only his four friends in the front row remained uncolored, but they would have to go with the majority.
"That can't be right," Umlaut said, troubled. "There were significant changes made because of me. What about the loss of bad dreams?"
"You mean you were responsible for that?" a voice cried from the audience. It was Mela Merwoman, wearing legs. "All those mean goblins jumping in the water and trying to grab my tail, because they know they won't be punished in their sleep?"
"Well, uh—"
"So it's your fault my wife has been so irritable recently," a man who must have been Prince Naldo Naga said. "You should be abolished!"
"But I was just trying to do my job."
"What job?"
"The one that Good Magician Humfrey—"
"So is he here too?" Naldo demanded.
"Yes," Magician Humfrey answered from another section of the audience.
"So there you are!" another man exclaimed, forging toward the Good Magician. "I hereby arrest you for obstructing justice."
Umlaut stared and so did half the audience. "You are Detective Patrick," Humfrey said, as he tended to know such things. "You did not get your Answer because you refused to give a year's service."
"I didn't owe you any year!" the detective protested. "I was investigating a crime. You made me go through three stupid challenges, and then you wanted to charge me for the Answer." He closed on Humfrey.
"You can't arrest the Good Magician," a veiled woman cried.
"Who the bleep are you?" the detective demanded.
"I am his wife, the Gorgon." She touched her veil. "Take one step more and I will remove my veil and look at you."
Now there was riotous chaos in the auditorium. Most folk knew that the Gorgon's direct stare stoned whatever she looked at. "Don't do it!" Umlaut cried. "There are too many others here to make it safe."
Several rabbits appeared, jumping in every direction. "What's this?" the Gorgon asked.
"The thought of you lifting your veil is a hare-raising event," Humfrey explained.
Another man stepped forward. He was young, with blond-tipped brown hair and hazel eyes. "Let me handle it," he said, unlimbering a thin club.
"And who the bleep are you?" the detective demanded as before.
"I am Beau. I don't think you should be such a bad loser. The Good Magician doesn't have to do your job for you."
"You can't intimidate me," the detective said. "I represent the law!" He reached for Humfrey.
Beau touched the detective with the club. Suddenly the man tore off his own clothing.
"What are you doing?" a woman demanded, shrinking away from the detective. Umlaut recognized her as Mouse Terian, Com Passion's beautiful mouse in human form, whom he had noticed before. "This is indecent exposure."
But in the process of retreating, she brushed against Beau's club. Then she tore off her own clothing. This drew considerable additional attention. Terian changed into her mouse form and scurried away under the chairs. Dozens of girls and women screamed vigorously, projecting healthy eeeeeks. There was more jostling as others tried both to move away and to get a better view. Then more of them were removing their clothing.
"The club!" someone cried. "What's the club?"
"It is a strip club," Beau said. "It makes people strip. That's why it is so effective as a way to break up aggression."
"This is all up in a, uh, heaval," Umlaut said, turning to Chlorine. "Can you—?"
Chlorine glanced at Nimby, who wiggled an ear.
Then the audience was as it had been a few minutes before, with every person in place. The detective was wearing a gag.
"This all started with the loss of bad dreams," Umlaut said. "Maybe, uh—"
Nimby wiggled an ear. "The bad dreams have been restored," Chlorine said.
"Then there's the mixed-up talents—"
Chlorine's eyes almost (but not quite) rolled. "There has hardly been time for such a problem to appear. Talents don't manifest until children are old enough to use them."
"But we have ways of knowing," a woman cried from the audience. "There are seers who can tell."
"Is anyone complaining?"
"Me mad! Me had," an ogress exclaimed. It turned out that her just-delivered ogret had been given the talent of accommodation, so that he would be able to find peaceful ways to help himself, such as using a stink horn as a defense. The problem was that ogres were supposed to be very strong and stupid, so they preferred to solve problems with ham-fists. A talent of accommodation would be an embarrassment to an ogre. It was definitely awkward.
Then a demoness gave her objection: Her half-mortal child had been given the talent of exorcising demons. How would she ever be able to take care of him when he reached brat age? How would he ever get along with his demon relatives?
A goblin was furious: His son had the talent of unknowingly helping those in need. What kind of a disgustingly nice pantywaist would he grow up to be?
A mermaid called out from her tank of water. "All my family have the talent of lovely, seductive singing," she said. "But yesterday the stork delivered my daughter with the talent of summoning any kind of cheese."
"So your fishy brat got the talent my cub should have had," a mouse/woman crossbreed cried. "What's mine going to do with lovely singing?"
"And what about mine?" a lovely creature said. She was a voluptuous woman from the front but hollow from behind. "She'll be a woodwife, like me, destined to seduce unwary men. She got the talent of making herself and others sneeze. I have had to name her Gazun Tite. She'll never make it!"
Umlaut tried to picture a seductive forest creature tempting a man who sneezed violently every time he tried to approach her. He tried not to laugh, knowing it was a serious matter to the woodwife.
Soon the audience was back up in a heaval. Nimby had to wiggle his ear again, and revert it, and see to the reassignment of talents. But he looked as though he were becoming impatient. Umlaut felt even more guilty than usual; all this had happened because of events he had set in motion.
"So are we satisfied now?" Chlorine inquired of the audience.
The people did not seem completely satisfied, but they decided that things were now tolerable. Greenness spread.
Then a new spot of redness showed. "I have a question," Tessa said.
"Stand up," Chlorine said.
"I am standing."
There was a murmur of mirth. That bothered Umlaut. "How short or tall a person is shouldn't be cause for humor," he said. "She has something to say."
The murmur subsided. "What is your concern?" Chlorine asked.
"You said something about a contraterrene equivalent to Xanth. I just wondered whether that could be where we sidestep."
The faces of the audience were generally blank, but Umlaut remembered how Cory and Tessa had led them through an alternate realm. Could their magic be addressing the land Fornax had had?
Chlorine glanced at Fornax.
"Yes," the Demoness said. "Two of your creatures possess magic to provide access without instant destruction. You will want to employ them in that capacity now that it is yours to colonize."
Umlaut looked at Tessa. "I think the two of you will have a very important job soon."
Nimby wiggled an ear. "That is true," Chlorine said.
Both Cory and Tessa flushed, looking forward to it.
"Very well," Chlorine said. She turned back to Umlaut. "Have you any concluding statement to make before the decision is implemented?"
"I, uh—" But he found himself at a loss for words, as was usual when there was anything significant to say.
"Now just half a moment!" It was an exclamation from the audience. One person stood apart, flaring red. Umlaut saw with a flare of joy that it was Surprise. Of course she was here too!
"Surprise Golem, you have an exception to note," Chlorine said.
"Yes! I'm in love with Umlaut. How can you just—just dissolve him? You will make me a widow, and we haven't even been married yet. Where does that leave me?" She dabbed at her face with a hank of her hair.
"You do have the individual option of deleting your experience with him," Chlorine pointed out. "That way you will not suffer."
"While everyone else remembers?" Surprise demanded tearfully. "They'll tell me, and then I'll know what I never had. How can you do that to me?"
Now Sesame turned red, and so did Claire. They agreed with Surprise. Several other members of the audience went from green to normal, changing their minds.
Chlorine looked at Nimby. "We shouldn't balk love," she told him. "Remember how it was with us?"
"This is getting complicated," Demoness Fornax protested. "Secondary characters can't make decisions for the primary one."
"Then let the primary one decide," Demon Jupiter said, focusing his Red Spot on Umlaut. Umlaut realized belatedly that this explained another mystery: Rorrim had shown no threat to Xan
th if Umlaut agreed to withhold the letter. That was because the threat, like Umlaut himself, had never been real. It had been there merely to motivate him to do his best. And delivery of the letters, or failure to deliver, would have settled the issue. That was how the letters related. So that assignment solved the problem. But if he hadn't delivered the letters, that would have given the victory to Fornax, and all Xanth would have suffered. There would have been chaos, or maybe that blank future. Unless Rorrim had a way to nullify that. Yet—
"Umlaut, the decision is yours," Chlorine said. "Should Surprise Golem remember you or forget you?"
"But I can't, uh, decide that," he said. "I don't want her to forget me, but I don't want her to suffer either. I don't want anyone to suffer on account of me."
"Of whom else are you thinking?" Chlorine asked.
"Well, uh, Sesame Serpent. She can't be with Soufflé Serpent because of his curse. They met because of me and will hurt if I go without enabling them to be together."
Soufflé, in the audience, turned red.
"Anyone else?" Chlorine asked, on the verge of impatience.
"Demoness Metria, her son's soul will be lost because of me. And Rorrim Mirror is losing his freedom. That's not right."
Two more red spots appeared in the audience: the real Metria, and Rorrim, propped in a chair. They were plainly amazed but appreciative.
"But they were opposing you," Chlorine pointed out.
"They were just doing what they had to do, and I messed them up. They should be set right too."
Chlorine's toe tapped the floor significantly. "Any others?"
He plowed stupidly ahead. "Well, yes, actually. What about Tristan Troll, cursed to be torn between two decent women? Gwenny Goblin, who can't find a suitable prince to marry. Gail Marie, who can't speak without the world pausing to listen. So many people have unfair problems, and I haven't helped them at all."
Chlorine looked at Nimby again. He wiggled an ear.
"The Demon Xanth, to get this settled, proffers you this choice: you to have continued existence so that Surprise is not bereaved, or all the others to have their problems resolved—abatement of curses, Demon Ted's soul saved, Rorrim's freedom retained, marriageable prince found, world no longer pausing to listen, and so on. Choose: your happiness or theirs."